


Bring Him Home

by Whoatemyenchilada (Imaslutforsomewhump)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Not Slash, fatherly Mustang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaslutforsomewhump/pseuds/Whoatemyenchilada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy sits beside Ed's hospital bed and contemplates his feelings for the young alchemist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Him Home

I am not often a sentimental man. I hide my emotions beneath my professional military demeanor. But… Being here by Edward’s bedside jostled something inside me. Hearing the doctors say that he may not last the night shook me to my very core.  
This was all my fault. I led him on this mission. I said he didn't need backup and here he lay hooked up to machines because of me.  
I am sitting beside a boy who was walking the thin line between life and death, wobbling now and then. I feel my eyes moisten and let them fall into my gloved hands.He is young. Too young to be dying in the line of duty or dying at all. Sometimes I forget that. He is only a boy.  
When he first joined the military, I wondered if he ever felt scared at all. He was always determined and ready to jump at any mission I gave him. But thinking back, of course he was afraid. He is after all only a boy. A child. Children get scared. Am I so beyond help that I couldn't see that or was I only seeing what I wanted. I wanted a pawn that I cared nothing for but things never seem to go as planned.  
I would never show it but after a few months, my attitude began to soften towards him. He is like the son I might have known, if god had granted me a son. Of course at first, i was oblivious to the feelings that I felt towards him. I pretended that the worry I felt after sending him on a mission was nonexistent. To forget it, I drowned myself in women and alcohol until he came home. And each time, he came back with barely a scratch on him. But, now? not so much. There’s an aching in my chest as if someone were stretching my ribs to make room for these feelings. It’s true, Edward felt like my son, or what I would imagine having a son would feel like. Each time he was hurt, I felt the hurt as if it were my own.  
I grab his flesh hand within my own, feeling his pulse as if to reassure myself that he was still here beside me and had not yet drifted.  
So here I sit beside him. Bring him home, I think as I watch the uneven rise and fall of his chest.  
I will promise to send others with him to every mission he has from now on. I would love to discharge him and give him the childhood he deserves but he would never let me. I sigh. I wish I could give him peace. All I want is to give him joy.  
I plead with death, let him be, let him live. I turn to Edward's body once again. Reality hits me once again that he may die tonight. He is so young. I should be the one dying. I am old and nearly gone, let him live. I want to shout and yell about how unfair this is. Dear god, just let him rest, bring him home. I reach to brush his loose golden hair from his forehead.  
Suddenly there’s a loud long beep. His heart stopped. My heart stopped as well. Suddenly nurses and doctors are pushing themselves into the room, grabbing my arms attempting to get me to leave. I duck out of one of the doctor's arms only to be grabbed by another. I was being dragged.  
“Stop!” I yelled “Stop!” Once the doctor had gotten me outside the room I continued to struggle in his arms.  
“That’s my boy,” I screamed with tears trailing down my face. There was no point in hiding it anymore “That’s my son,” I cried hysterically before the doctor had gotten me into the seat against the wall. And that’s it I began to cry and curse.  
“My son,” I whispered. The doctor’s hand was placed upon my shoulder.  
“He’s stable sir,” a voice erupted from the door I was pushed out of. Oh my god.  
“Edward!” I tried to push myself past the woman in the doorway.  
“I’m military! Let me through!” I demanded before the doctor pulled me back instead.  
“Colonel Mustang, I insist you go home and take a nap,” The doctor said.  
“Please, first let me see my son,” I pleaded. He sighed and motioned for the nurse to allow me through. I knelt beside the crisp white bed and held Edward’s hand once again.  
“I will be back soon,” I told him before kissing the top of his head and allowing myself to be maneuvered out of the room.

That night I had trouble going to sleep but once I was asleep, I stayed asleep. I woke up unaware of yesterday. Forgetting what happened until of course I checked the clock and the memories flooded my mind and I jumped out of bed and dressed as quickly as possible.  
Driving to the hospital was agony. Every traffic light, every slow car every damn goose that decided today was the right day to cross the road, held me up. It felt like hours before I rushed into Edward’s room to find him breathing. I almost cried in relief. Bring him home.  
“He’s stable and should actually be waking up in a few hours,” I heard from behind me. The doctor from before. He looked exhausted like he had stayed here all night. Maybe he did stay here all night… Purple circles under his eyes seemed to make his face look older and his coat seemed wrinkled and ruffled.  
“I can’t thank you enough for everything,” I told him. I mentally took a note to buy him flowers later. He smiled.  
“It’s my job, colonial and it’s your job to be here, with your boy,” He said before leaving to attend other patients.

Edward began to stir around five PM.  
“Edward? Are you awake? squeeze my hand,” When I felt the sweaty grip on my hand, I laughed out of pure joy and when he opened his eyes, a tear fell from my eye.  
“C-colonial?”  
“Yes, Edward, I’m here.” I reassured him before he closed his eyes once more and rested. He was brought home

**Author's Note:**

> I want to make this clear that this was a songfic but I didn't want it to seem that way, soooooo. I don’t own Les Mis even though, I really wish I did. I came up with the idea while seeing my friend in the live show and finally wrote it.


End file.
